


Pieces Missing

by xensilverquill



Series: From Darkness We Rise [4]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Adventures in Twili Culture, Fluff, I-Missed-You Cuddles, M/M, Team Villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xensilverquill/pseuds/xensilverquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Were they only here," he thought aloud, "where they belong..."</p><p>Or, "In Which A Twili Misses His Sword Spirit"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces Missing

 Based on friend Skull's cute-as-hell headcanons. c:

_**"Whenever Gan sends Ghirahim on a mission, Zant will sit down and patiently wait by the spot where Ghirahim teleported away from and wait for him to come back."** _

_**"He absolutely refuses to leave that spot because he wants to be able to greet Ghirahim when he gets back.** _

_**"Ganon probably finds this a bit strange, but also kinda cute (though he won’t admit it, not even too himself)."** _

* * *

“You understand the importance of your mission, then?  Stealth and precision are imperative in its execution, and our success in the upcoming siege depends upon you.”

Fingers splayed on the spelled map as he leaned lightly against the table, Ganondorf’s stony expression brooked no argument. A three-dimensional, translucent layout of the temple was open to his view, and every now again his eyes would wander to glowing point at its heart.

“Of course, master. Please, rest assured, I shall see the operation through to its inevitable success.” Ghirahim bowed with a flourish, that sly smile ever present on his face.

The Gerudo would have rolled his eyes at the dramatic gesture, but he had long since come to expect that sort of flair from his minion. Provided that the demon remembered his place and his flamboyant nature did not interfere with Ganondorf’s own goals, the cheeky creature could do as he pleased.

“If that is all, I depart at your leave, my lord,” continued the sword spirit.

“Depart then,” his master replied, nodding in dismissal, “and go with haste.”

 Ghirahim bowed his way out of the room. Once outside, he spun round in a flurry of gold diamonds and was gone.

"I am not needed on this mission then, master?" a familiar reedy voice echoed in the wake of the demon's departure. Glancing upward, the Gerudo saw the pale face of his other lieutenant just as Zant poked his head in.

"You may enter," Ganondorf rumbled in answer to the Twili's unspoken request to come in.

He had to suppress a smirk as the former usurper king came scurrying into the chamber. Of all the servants he had ever possessed, Zant was by far the most zealous and the most genuinely loyal. He nearly outpaced his sword spirit partner for sheer enthusiasm as well.

"Ghirahim's reconnaissance assignment calls for silence and focus," Ganondorf explained. "Both of which you tend to lack on a regular basis. You are many things, my most stalwart warrior, but an assassin is not one of them."

Wilting at his master's words in all but the literal sense, Zant cast his gaze to the ground. Scuffing at the dirt with his shoe in a childish gesture, he wrung his hands, fingers lacing and unlacing. He was always particularly sensitive to his master's criticism and usually took them in the worst way possible.

And, of course, his minion's morale was going to suffer if Ganondorf left the matter there. Honestly, the Twili had all the self-confidence of a newborn foal taking its first steps. Zant was an excellent melee fighter and magic user, but the bonds that held his sanity together were tenuous at best.

"However," the Gerudo added, walking around the table, "there is another way you can make yourself useful." This time he did not suppress his a brief, dark laugh as Twili's face lit up instantly. If nothing else, Zant was good for a laugh now and then.

"I must away on my own mission for a few days." He tapped an area on the map, a place deep within the heart of the desert. A faded scrawl of Gerudo script denoted the name of the region, but it would not have been legible to his minion. "I have... personal business to which I must attend before the campaign on the Valley of Seers.

"In the meantime, I am leaving you here to guard the fortress and keep our new allies among the Darknuts and the Lizalfo clans in line. Until Ghirahim returns, you must remain to defend what foothold we have managed to gain here." Arching one eyebrow, he regarded the Twili gravely. "I trust that you are capable and know full well the consequences should you fail me in this?"

Zant fairly twittered and danced in response before practically prostrating himself before his master. "Yes, my lord," he shrilled. "I shall guard this place with my life if I must!"

"See that you do." Affording his minion one last nod, Ganondorf disapparated in a cloud of dark violet smoke, leaving the Twii to his task.

* * *

When he was not patrolling their borders and managing - and occasionally eliminating - rebellious monster hordes, Zant found himself haunting the spot where his sword spirit companion had disappeared.

The former usurper king was overjoyed that his master was so apparently confident in the Twili's abilities to handle the affairs of their fortress and army, truly he was. To him the gesture spoke volumes on the master's trust and generosity and Zant was duly humbled. His unquestionable allegiance was always reciprocated by his liege and lord, though the Twili was most assuredly unworthy of that divine grace. 

Yet he could not quell the faint pang of loneliness that bloomed in the absence of the Gerudo and the demon. Zant was not a sociable creature by nature, and he quite frankly detested the company of others when he was perfectly fine alone. Ganondorf and Ghirahim were the sole exceptions.

From his master he craved attention and direction, which he thankfully deigned to give to Zant on a regular basis. His master was his life, the god around which his entire existence revolved. So long as Ganondorf had need of his services, there would continue to be purpose in the Twili's life.

And Ghirahim... well, the sword spirit was something else to him entirely.

Over the months they had fought together on the battle field, the two had gone from being near-enemies to inseparable allies. Save for instances such these when they were sent out on a solo missions, Zant had hardly known a moment without the demon by his side.

He hardly knew how to begin describing this... thing between himself and the demon lord. Since that [Heat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2411522), it took everything the Twili had not to follow Ghirahim around like a lovesick pup, and he failed at least half the time in that regard.

No one, Twili or otherwise, had ever before inspired these _feelings_ in Zant. No one kissed him in such a way that he nearly fell into same madness of battle. No one elicited such moans of ecstasy from him, tuning and playing him like some living instrument. No one had ever shown him the likes of such possessive and dark passion or let him show it in return.

And beyond the pleasures of the flesh, Zant had long since come to rely on the sword spirit in a fight. The Twili could not imagine running into battle with any other but the sword spirit for a partner. They had assisted and saved one another so often that Zant had long since lost track of the number of favors he owed the demon. In any case, he owed his allegiance and life to Ghirahim, who had become second only their master in his mind.

Ganondorf had once said that three of them were, in essence, the same being. United by his powers, they were each aspects of a greater and better whole. So the sense of oneness Zant he felt with the demon, he supposed, was simply a logical and foregone conclusion.

Sighing, the Twili leaned against the wall, half his helmet pulled back to expose his mouth. From the window the spread of the fortress grounds and the surrounding desert was visible, though his heat sense at this range could only make varying degrees of "scorching hot." Somewhere beyond lay the two missing pieces of himself, as far apart and scattered as the Triforce.

Shoulders slumped and lips turned down, gloom hung about him like a shroud. He wanted nothing more than to find the coolest and shadiest corner of the fortress and slumber until their return. Yet his master had charged him with a task, and so could not rest, only patiently wait.

"Were they only here," he thought aloud, "where they belong..."

"Oh, why the long face, darling? You look positively more wretched than usual."

Whipping around, Zant turned to see the very sword spirit he had been thinking of. The demon smirked at him from the corner, an inviting albeit tired look in his dark eyes.

Instinctively, the Twili dashed across the chamber towards Ghirahim. He pulled the other man into his arms and held him a somewhat tight embrace. Zant purred madly as he lowered his head.

"You're back!" he chirped, pulling back just the slightest to assess the well-being of his lover. "Your mission was a success? You are well?" The demon looked the tiniest bit disheveled, his mantle not so pristine and his hair not so straight as when he had left. Otherwise he appeared to be fine.

"Yes, yes, you over-eager lizard," the sword spirit said, attempting to wave him away. "Sometimes I wonder if you are a Twili or a mother hen with the way you carry on around me."

Thoroughly ignoring the demon's exasperation, Zant leaned in to rub  his mouth against the man's pale and dusty cheek. He sighed contentedly as the coolness of Ghirahim's skin registered in the _shuu'sen_ of his lips. 

Among the Twili, nuzzling one's face against another's was a common greeting between friends, family, and mates alike. Their keen heat sense allowed them to make out the _teri'ha_ \- the unique heat signature - of each individual person. Reading that signature at such a close, intimate range reaffirmed bonds of affection and love.

Ghirahim more than likely did not fully appreciate the significance of the gesture. All the same, he seemed willing enough to indulge the Twili in his strange habits.

[["It is so good to see you,"]] Zant murmured, not even realizing he was speaking the Twilit language in his haze of euphoria. [["Oh, how I've missed you, sweet one..."]]

"You know I cannot understand a word of that gibberish," the demon chided in a mock scolding tone. A flick of his wrist and the rest of Zant's mask folded back to bare his face to the sword spirit.

Burying his fingers in the Twili's shock of brownish hair, Ghirahim slanted his mouth across his lover's for a kiss. His long tongue swept across Zant's lips, instantly calling forth a heated groan. Zant's hands clasped together at the small of the demon's back and drew him closer.

[["I want you..."]] he breathed into the small space between them. [["I need you..."]]

For several minutes they stood there in a tangle of teeth and lips. Ghirahim's expertise in kissing shortly left the Twili a quaking wreck in his grasp. Flicking his tongue across the tall man's lips one last time, the demon looked up at him with hooded eyes.

"Why don't we take this some place more private, hm?" he hummed. "Then you can tell me - or rather, show me - exactly how much you really missed me..."

**Author's Note:**

> Twili Language:
> 
> \- shuu'sen = heat-sensing organs at the corners of one's lips
> 
> \- teri'ha = heat signature unique to each individual


End file.
